Paper Garden
by Lutralutra
Summary: A collection of brief snapshots of the Yahiko/Konan/Nagato team. 4: She met a boy and his dog. Sometimes all you need is someone to save.
1. Chapter 1

I think I'm on a fanfiction roll - the only problem is that I can't stick to just one fandom, so I keep feeling guilty of neglect. But anyway, here's something for my new favourite team (sorry, Teams 7, 8, 9 and 10 - but I still love you all!), the un-numbered team, consisting of three Rain orphans that we all, or at least all who've been following the manga, know - Yahiko, Konan and Nagato. I was a bit disappointed to find that Pein was not, well, _quite _who or what I thought he was, but Konan remains intact, and I have a great interest in this bypassed team.

Basically, this is a series of short, separate oneshots/drabbles focused on Yahiko, Konan and Nagato. Chapters may include one, two or all of them, and the ages, settings and genres will probably vary greatly. I'm _expecting _(hopingwishingpraying) to continue to add to this fic, but I admit you can't really depend on me for that. Still, I want to try.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

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**1: Konan, Yahiko. He was the first person to call her beautiful. Maybe he would be the last.

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**"Nagato?" she called quietly, nudging the door open and sucking her stomach in to slip inside through the minute space she'd created. Even if she told herself she was no longer afraid of what she might see, it had become a habit of hers since childhood never to open doors more than a crack.

The voice that greeted her held a hint of a smile. "Guess again."

"Yahiko," she corrected herself, stepping into the hallway that also served as a kitchen and bedroom. She slipped her sandals off, another habit that she couldn't bear to break even though there were old bloodstains on the cracked floor, and pattered over to her comrade in bare, cold feet.

He was sprawled across the lone bed, arms folded behind his spiky head, legs stretched out in front of him, the sharp outlines of his nose and chin illuminated in the dim glow of moonlight through the open window. At first glance he looked comfortable, but she knew that tenseness of his shoulders, that stiffness of his chest rising up and down, that hardness of his jaw too well not to dispel the illusion. Yahiko smiled more easily and in worse circumstances than anyone she had ever met, but in silence, in stillness and in absence of action, he suffered the most. But then he sat up, exhaling, and she knew he was glad to see her.

"Was I gone too long?" she asked.

He smiled, and she admired his effortlessness. "Nah," he assured her. "You do what you have to do, Konan, and you come back as soon as you can."

"Yeah," she said softly, reminded of what it was that she'd had to do this time, and who it was that she had to do it for - the two boys who were all she had, who would wait as long as it took.

Suddenly drained, she began to take off her clothes, wanting to get out of the tight, prickly mesh. The shirt and leggings peeled painfully, sticky with sweat, brushing her bruises. She stripped quickly and in her usual business-like manner; she was used to changing in front of Yahiko and Nagato, and they in front of her - even if there had been the option of being embarrassed about it, she wouldn't have been. She trusted them with herself.

The air that flowed freely around her body felt wonderful, fresh, cool, cleansing, and she stood there for a few moments just to appreciate it. The whitish-yellow light of the moon revealed her skin, pale under the dirt, the dark hairs rippling along her arms and legs, the round bulges of her breasts, the edges of her pelvic bones as they jutted out under the curve of her hips.

"You shouldn't show yourself like this to anyone but us," Yahiko spoke up mildly, not reproachfully or commandingly, but as a simple statement, slightly too undercharged with feeling to be fact.

"Why?" she inquired unconcernedly, not annoyed or resentful, but undeniably surprised. He had never said anything of the kind before, and she didn't know why he would bring it up now.

"Because you're beautiful."

She stood very still, unsure of how to respond either physically or verbally. Yahiko didn't withhold praise, but he rarely gave a compliment without a reason for it, and she could see no prompt for this one. But neither could she hear any joking undertone or sarcasm in his voice, or indeed discern any meaning other than the plain definition of those three words. Not for the first time, but for a purpose very different from that of any of the previous occasions, she examined herself, tried to see herself through his eyes.

She heard Yahiko shift behind her, and felt rough fabric swish over her back as he draped a robe on top of her. His hands gripped her shoulders gently for a moment before he drew away. The sudden rush of warmth enabled her to speak.

"What do you mean, Yahiko? How can you tell?" The way she said it, a bit too sharply, made her sound insecure, scared, and she bit her tongue.

He didn't answer either of the questions, but asked one instead.

"Do you think I'd lie to you about it?"

She spun to face him, needing to read his expression. He was smiling lightly, perhaps wryly, but honestly. She took a breath and shook her head, her doubts gone, if they had ever existed in the first place. "I don't think," she said, "you'd lie to me about anything."

"Well, then," he replied simply, "believe me."

No one had ever called her beautiful before, and she wondered if anyone ever would again. Most things that Yahiko had given her she knew she would never have again, because there was no source other than him, had never been any other for her; and most things he'd given her she had also never expected to have. Maybe this would be one of the former, but she knew for certain that it was one of the latter.

She nodded carefully, watching him. She almost told him that she thought he was beautiful too, but she knew that he'd always known that.

So she just said, "Thank you."

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	2. Chapter 2

I don't think I've updated a fic this fast since...well, ever. And it happens to be the fic for which I've gotten the least reviews. I hope my writing isn't going downhill, since lately the amount of reviews I've been getting for my fics, especially Naruto ones, is kind of pathetic by any standard. Hopefully a lot of readers are just away for the summer?

Still, I'm content. Writing this second little shot made me love these three twice as much as I did before. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

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**2: Nagato, Konan, Yahiko. They took what they got, and what they got was rain. And they loved every minute of it.

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**

He looked out of the broken window, gaze sliding meaninglessly over and through the fogged pane. The street was as grey as the sky, all colour washed away by the sudden torrent that was attacking town. The rain was not a quiet background but an exploding cacophony, a violent rhythm of staccato taps and clatters on pavement, wood, stone, skin, but it resounded only dully inside his head, a mere echo of its life bouncing around in his skull.

Nagato reached out and ran his finger lightly along the jagged contour of the hole in the window, and withdrew it when he felt two separate stings, a raindrop landing on his knuckle at the same time as a bubble of blood welled up from a new cut. He stuck his finger in his mouth and tasted sour, watery metal.

Suddenly he was roughly jostled aside, staggering away, his shoulder thudding into the wall. He raised no complaint but merely stared at the auburn-haired boy who had shoved him out of the way and was now craning his small neck over the window sill, nose grazing the glass, bright blue eyes shining.

"Hey Nagato, is it raining? Like _really _raining, not just some wimpy God-spit?" he exclaimed with unbridled eagerness, not waiting for a reply. "It is! Yes! I've been waiting for this!" He twisted his head around and shouted, "Konan! It's RAINING! Come ON!_"_

Without so much as another millisecond of hesitation, he pushed himself off the sill and dashed to the door, throwing it open and flinging himself out with a will. Nagato, still half-cowering against the wall, watched uncomprehendingly.

He heard whoops and splashes and approached the window once again, catching sight of Yahiko leaping around wildly, toes immersed in a puddle, feet kicking up little white waves of water, his shirt already soaked, rain already streaming down his face like a million tiny rivers running to the ocean. The pure ecstasy reflected in his over-bright cheeks, in his stubby fingers as he grasped at flying droplets, was something that Nagato could neither understand nor tear his eyes away from.

"Nagato, what is it? What's Yahiko doing?" Konan demanded with excited but slightly restrained curiosity as she joined him at the window. He glanced sideways at her, and watched her lips curve smoothly up into a smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling. For a moment she observed Yahiko's solitary, exuberant dance in silence, and then without warning she too made a sprint for the door, calling back to him, "Nagato, come out with us!"

But he didn't come, didn't even speak. He didn't know what they were doing. They didn't look like they knew what they were doing either, but they seemed to be enjoying it, and he knew he couldn't join in. He tried to tell himself that they were being stupid, childish, that he wasn't missing out. That he wanted to stay here and be dry and safe. That if he took this release now, he would be crushed later by all the pain.

He looked out the window again and saw that they were no longer in view, and for a moment his pain was eclipsed by panic. They had abandoned him - they blamed him, too. The pain was his fault, and everyone knew it.

Then the door swung open with a crash that was almost enough to elicit a cry from him, and they all but fell over each other as they burst into the room, dripping all over the floor. But they picked themselves up and rushed headlong towards him, panting and shouting.

"What are you _doing?_!" Yahiko yelled, his dimpled grin threatening to split his face in half as he grabbed Nagato's arm and shook it. "What are you _waiting _for, you idiot! _This _is rain! Are you gonna miss it or what?"

"We might not get another chance to do this for weeks!" Konan added enthusiastically, spraying him with water as she nodded. "Downpours like this don't come that often. The puddles are amazing."

"_Puddles?_" Yahiko exclaimed incredulously, his loud voice giving out into a huff of pure exhilaration. "What _puddles, _Konan? These aren't _puddles! _These are like _floods_! The whole _village _is a puddle!" He let out an exasperated groan and began to physically tug Nagato along with him. "Come _on, _Nagato! We're wasting it!"

Nagato tried to say something, but with the way they were laughing, they wouldn't have heard it even if he'd managed to get it out. They did get _him _out, however, Konan pushing him right out into the rain and Yahiko following up by tackling him immediately, bringing them both down with a splash. Through the water in his ears, he heard Konan shriek in delight above them.

Yahiko rolled off him and Nagato lay there in the flood, coughing up rainwater and spluttering. Yahiko was hollering something, but no one could tell what it was - out here the noise of the downpour was deafening, a fraction of thunder in every drop. It assaulted Nagato's senses, forcing his eyes to open wide, his lungs to suck in huge, wet breaths, his limbs to flail about in a bizarre imitation of swimming.

Through the blinding torrent he made out Konan's face just in front of his, smiling, waving madly. Yahiko's bellowing guffaws of joy were so loud that they seemed to shake the whole street.

He blinked blurrily, more in disbelief than in anything else. How could they act like this? How could they grin and shout and jump about as if their hearts hadn't all been broken? As if everything hadn't been broken! As if they weren't already dying inside, and getting closer to dying outside every day? As if it didn't just plain _hurt, _a pain that pushed everything else below, into a bottomless pit, a pain that needed out more desperately than he'd ever needed anything before. 

He'd meant to scream, but when he opened his mouth what came out was a strangled sound from his throat and his feet and his chest, thrust from his vocal chords in a moan. And then he was sobbing, everything around him and in him overflowing.

Then Yahiko was somehow patting him on the back, a bit harder than necessary, Konan squeezing his hand, the blood from his cut finger winding thinly down her wrist, and still she didn't let go. He feebly gasped for breath and for control, and somehow his mindless groping got a hold of a damp, tight fist of salvation.

He never realized how or why or when, but somewhere along the way, his sobs turned to laughter.

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	3. Chapter 3

Before we get to the latest oneshot, I've just got a question: does anyone know what Nagato's actual hair colour is? I always pictured it as black, and I've seen it that way in some pictures, but in others it's been shown to be a sort of dark-reddish shade, almost burgundy. I'm not sure if Kishimoto's given us any definitive evidence to either side, but if he has and anyone out there knows it, it'd really help me out too. I actually like the black-and-white tradition of manga, and much prefer it to the often garish (at least in my opinion) colouring of non-Japanese comics, but it can admittedly be frustrating for fanfiction writers seeking information. :P

Also, the dialogue between Yahiko and the Sannin is mostly taken from Chapter 446 of the manga - with some tweakage and additions on my part - in case you found it familiar. And if you don't remember, Tiny is the name of the little dog who was Nagato's faithful companion.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

**3: Yahiko. If hope was his burden alone, then he would bear it to the end, and carry his friends along with it if he had to.

* * *

**

He licked his thumb and rubbed it hard over his cheek, clearing away the grime and biting his tongue as the saliva stung a recently acquired scratch. His damp finger lost its moisture almost immediately - it was strange, almost uncomfortable, to be so dry. It hadn't rained since the day Tiny had died, a rare break, and although the wetness was hardly pleasant, Yahiko felt cracked and crusty without it.

He didn't mention it - whining about something like that was too wimpy for words - but glancing at his companions, he thought that they must be experiencing the same thing. Nagato's dark hair was so dirt-covered it was nearly brown, hanging limply, and Konan's was practically exploding with static. Yahiko looked down at his hands and flexed his knuckles - the dry skin there was crisscrossed with flaky lines. Then he looked away, disgusted by himself.

_Just look at the state you're in! _he thought bitterly, glaring with slitted eyes up at the scorching sun. _At the state we're all in. We're so weak we're falling apart at the seams. We'll never survive at this rate. _Once again, the urgency of the statement he'd made, _"I need strength, not just words!", _hit him with gut-wrenching force. He could say that they had to become ninja, but how were they supposed to do that? How did they start? How did anything start in this wartorn hellhole, how did anything grow to be more than just stupid, hopeful words coming out of a child's mouth?

Suddenly Konan perked up, stepping closer to him. "Look!" she exclaimed in a whisper, peering around the pillar that they were standing behind. "It's them - those ninja who fought Hanzo!"

Nagato barely stirred, but Yahiko spun immediately, feeling a blossom of excitement and expectation flower in his empty stomach as he saw them too, the three Konoha ninja, two of them seated, the other upright beside them. Yahiko appraised them keenly - they were battered, their armour dented and filthy, but they were all whole, their victory evident despite their serious, tired atmosphere. He felt the hope rise within him once again - they were strong. They were the answer to his prayers and his curses.

"We've got to talk to them," he said without hesitation. "They can show us how to be ninja. They're good enough to do it, I know they are."

Nagato did look up at this, the premature shadows under his eyes standing out against his pale, mournful face. Panic flitted across his expression. "We...we can't!" he protested, his voice feeble but his fear and objection real.

Yahiko snorted impatiently. This was no time for Nagato to be such a baby. "We have to! This might be our only chance. How long do you think we can live like this? Tiny's already gone, we'll be next if we don't do something about it. We have to protect ourselves!"

Nagato quivered and curled in on himself at the mention of his beloved dog's death. He hugged his knees to his chest with one arm and scrabbled at the dusty ground with the other, as if seeking the comfort of the soft fur that he would never stroke again. The sight tore at Yahiko more than he could say, filled him with guilt - he hadn't been able to save Tiny, had hardly been able to save anyone or anything - but it only reinforced his desperation. "Being scared and grieving all the time aren't going to get you anywhere!" he lashed out ruthlessly at Nagato. "We need to take action. And if you're too much of a coward to do that, then I will!"

"Yahiko! Stop it!" Konan cried, grabbing his elbow and shaking him. "We're all scared and we're all grieving, and you know it! So don't blame it on him!" He tore himself out of her grip but subsided, and she approached Nagato, crouching down to his level. "He didn't mean it, Nagato," she said softly. "But we do need to protect ourselves somehow."

"Don't apologize for me, Konan," Yahiko cut her off harshly, slightly sorry for saying something like that to Nagato, who already had more than enough self-doubt without him chipping in, but nonetheless stubborn and resentful. "Maybe you're right, but I'm right too. And I'll go to them alone if I have to."

"You're not going alone," Konan said firmly, straightening. "Don't even try." She put her hands on her hips bravely, but he saw the trepidation in the anxious set of her mouth. Still, her unhesitating support fortified him as it always did, and he squared his shoulders and announced before he could lose his nerve, "Well, come then, because I'm going now."

He stepped away from the pillar and marched determinedly toward the ninja, hearing Konan's slower, lighter footfalls behind him, and without pausing he called back, "You come too, Nagato." Nagato was most persistent in his defiance when he was frightened, but he had never yet ignored a direct command from Yahiko.

At close proximity the three Konoha nin looked more beat-up than they had from the earlier distance, but also somehow tougher, when he could make out the lines etched on their faces and the muscles sticking out through the rips in their clothes. Their collective attention was riveted on him at once as they noticed him, a bit more pressure than he would have liked, but the one with the bushy mane of white hair spoke first. "What do you kids want?" he demanded, voice rough and muffled as he talked through a mouthful of some sort of rations.

"We want to survive," Yahiko replied clearly, his demand loud and unrestrained. "We want to learn the way of the ninja. We want - we need you to teach us." He heard Konan shift, and thought there was another scuffing as well - he hoped it was Nagato after all, but refused to break eye contact with the ninja to look back and check.

At that moment, without warning, rain began to pour down, drenching them soundlessly, and while there was a brief second of shock, Yahiko felt himself grow under its influence, its familiarity lending him courage. He stuck his chin out a little further and gazed at them fearlessly.

The two who were sitting, the white-haired one and the blond woman, both stood rapidly, looking surprised at the sudden request, but the third, a grey-faced, oily-looking man with a long curtain of black hair, seemed unconcerned. He sized up the youngsters impassively, his lip curling momentarily before he asked, deadpan, "Should we kill them?"

Yahiko stiffened instantly. "Wha - ?!" he exclaimed aggressively, falling into a ready crouch as a horrible wave of terror seized him. They didn't stand a chance against real _ninja _- but they wouldn't, they couldn't really intend to - !

"I am merely speaking from the point of view of someone who has seen his share of war orphans," the oily one continued smoothly, "and it's a cruel life. They would be better off if we were to simply kill them now."

Yahiko's heart was pounding painfully by now, but fortunately the other two ninja seemed to share his aversion to the proposal. "Stop it, Orochimaru!" the white-haired man commanded powerfully, and the woman's lovely brown eyes flashed fiercely.

Orochimaru looked away dispassionately, as if the discussion already bored him. White Hair gazed at him for a few moments, the hardness of his eyes contrasting bizarrely against his other features, which seemed better designed for merriment, then said suddenly, "You and Tsunade head home. I'm gonna stay with these kids for a while."

The woman, presumably Tsunade, appeared stunned. "Huh?! Jiraiya, what - ?"

Jiraiya went on with conviction, "Just until they can take better care of themselves." He paused and glanced down briefly, and Yahiko thought he saw pain pass over his marked face, a pain that he himself knew well. "It's the least I can do," Jiraiya said finally.

There was nothing that Yahiko liked in the looks of the ninja - Orochimaru was disdainful, Tsunade was pitying but uncomprehending, and Jiraiya was willing and dutiful but heavy-hearted underneath it all, as if he didn't really believe that anything he could do for them would save them. But Yahiko and his team were used to facing fears, jeers and impossible odds, and his resolve solidified to steel on the spot.

"So do it," he spoke out boldly, challengingly. It didn't matter what these three believed - he could be just as strong as them.

A hint of a lopsided smile showed up on Jiraiya's lips, and Konan, encouraged by this, stepped forward and said formally but earnestly, "Thank you."

At last Tsunade smiled too, and she nodded as she turned her back on them, clapping Jiraiya on the shoulder. "Good luck," were her parting words, and Yahiko couldn't tell if they were aimed at Jiraiya or at him and his two friends. Either way, they were another drop of vigour to empower him.

No matter how many times he had to take the plunge, they would survive.

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	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Don't own Naruto. Some (hardly any) dialogue taken from Chapter 445 of the manga.

Go Konan. :)

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**4: Konan. She met a boy and his dog. Sometimes all you need is someone to save.

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**

She clutched the loaf of bread tightly to her chest, fully prepared to defend it with her life, for indeed her life depended on it. It hadn't really been so long ago that this war had started, had it? But already she could barely remember a time when she hadn't regarded a scrap of food as a treasure more precious than any jewel or antique.

Her stomach rumbled painfully as she walked over the rain-beaten stones, but she held her appetite in check, waiting until she'd rejoined Yahiko to dig in. Eating without him was never really satisfying, anyway.

Her hunger growing steadily more unbearable, she broke into a run, sandals slipping and sliding over the wet surface. But never to the point of a fall, because she was used to this – the damp crawling over her skin, the puddles under her feet, the raindrops pattering onto her umbrella, streaming from its ridges in thin transparent lines.

Suddenly she stopped, heart racing slightly, sucking in quick breaths of moist air as she turned in the direction of the noise she'd just heard – a faint yipping, like a little dog's bark. It was probably just another stray, as almost all of them were now, since nobody could afford to keep a pet, but there had been a hint of real distress in the bark, and she somehow couldn't force herself to keep moving without at least checking it out.

She squinted, looking out into the drenching haze that the rain had draped over the scenery, and caught a flash of garish brown-red against the pale, streaked rocks. She took a few careful, indecisive steps forward, then a few more, fighting her own sense of practicality. She knew what Yahiko would say about this. _Just turn around, Konan. Whatever it is, whoever it is, you can't help them, and you can't afford to try. Strays can't take care of strays. Not without sacrifices – and we've made enough of those already._

She knew that was true, every bit of it, but she kept moving closer. Finally she managed to stop, her grip limp on the umbrella's handle, staring at the body lying on the ground a few feet away. But it wasn't just that, it wasn't just a body. It was a person – a boy, about her age. A ragged raincoat, blending in with the rocks underneath, rose and fell jerkily in time with the weak, painstaking gasping of its wearer, rain pooling around that red-haired head. A tiny white dog stood beside the fallen boy, shaking and panting with desperation, uttering the occasional bark, each less hopeful than the last. Boy and owner were both giving up.

Somehow Konan couldn't stand that. People shouldn't be _allowed _to give up just like that – to let the important things slowly drain away with the trickling, evaporating rainwater. Her hunger, her aches and pains and despairs, rose up inside her and formed a bulging lump in her throat, and she knew she couldn't eat that bread now no matter how ravenous she was. Not until she'd done something that she had to do, that only she could do.

Swallowing the lump down with all her might, she breached the remaining distance and knelt down, her clothes rustling damply. She held out the loaf of bread. "Here…eat this."

The boy's exhausted eyes opened, nearly entirely obstructed by his soaked, unruly bangs. He blinked, and with an effort lifted his head a few centimetres from the ground. He was too weary to muster much emotion, but she saw the shock outlined in that thin mouth, those dirty cheeks, and the dim spark in his dark, miserable eyes. And she couldn't help but smile, gently, kindly, for a moment forgetting her own misfortune as she looked at this poor, lone soul.

She knew already she'd done the right thing.

His dry, feeble gulp was audible even over the rain's pattering. "A-Are you sure?" he asked, voice as cracked and spent as his body looked to be.

"Yeah," she said easily, not hesitating.

She reached out to him, taking his arm between her skinny fingers, helping him into a sitting position. It was no difficulty; he was ever so light, as if his bones were made of air. But the way he moved, his shoulders slumping over, limbs huddled together, gave an impression of heaviness, of being bowed over with a great burden. For some reason Konan wanted to let her hand linger on his arm, but she didn't; she had a feeling that if he had been strong enough to do so, he would have rejected her touch entirely. And although she didn't know anything about him, inside she understood why.

He brought the loaf of bread to his mouth, shaking in his frail grip, when suddenly his attention was deflected to the pup in front of him, panting eagerly. He stared at it, mouth slightly open, before carefully breaking the loaf in two and placing one half on the ground in front of the animal with a soft, "Here." He had a quiet, timid voice, barely above a whisper, but it showed his affection for the creature clearly.

Konan was privately astonished that he could bear to give away so much as a crumb, when he was obviously suffering for nourishment. But she liked him better for it, and her smile stayed of its own accord as she watched him gobble down the bread. She couldn't resent him for eating her meal at all; for one thing he needed it more, and for another, the noises he made, ecstatic munching and loud swallowing, were just too amusing. She put a hand up to her mouth to hide a giggle, but he heard it and looked up, wide-eyed.

She schooled her features quickly, afraid that she might have hurt his feelings – he just seemed so sensitive – but to her delight, he hesitated, then granted her a tiny smile in return.

Encouraged, she asked, "What's your dog's name?"

He glanced down at the patched, raggedy pup, who was joyfully devouring its portion of the loaf. "Tiny," he said shyly.

A fitting name indeed. Konan knelt down and patted the creature, who rewarded her with a sloppy lick on the wrist. Its fur was tough and matted with filth, but she could feel the warm pulse of its heart and the surprising strength in its small body, and it was oddly comforting. "Tiny," she repeated thoughtfully. "He's all you have, right?"

Nagato looked at her in silence, then nodded. She nodded back, more firmly, and told him, "Well, now you have me too. And Yahiko – I'll take you to him. Yahiko will save you. He saved me."

She spoke confidently, knowing it was true. Yahiko looked after his and her own survival foremost, but he never turned away hope, no matter how harsh the circumstances, how rocky the journey. And if what she saw in this boy's dark but bright eyes, in this little dog's fiercely wagging tail – if that wasn't hope, then she didn't know what was.

The boy had finished eating, and now he stared at her, wiping a smudge off his wet face. He shifted and leaned forward a bit, saying timidly but earnestly, "You saved me already."

She was taken aback. She honestly hadn't thought about it like that; it was always Yahiko who did the saving, who paved the way with his head and heart. But she realized that the boy was right, on some level; today it was _she _who had made the choice that counted, who had pulled him up off the ground, all on her own initiative. And it felt kind of amazing. She wondered if this was the most important thing she'd ever done so far in her life; perhaps the most important thing she would ever do.

It was crazy to think of it that way. Yahiko would laugh at her - after he scolded her, that is. But thinking about it made her happy, made her proud. She wanted to do this again and again.

Standing up, she extended her umbrella to cover the boy's head as well as her own, dusting off her knees. "Let's go," she invited him. "I'll take you home."

He brushed straggly hair off his forehead, searching her with that vulnerable gaze, that innocence that she could never be sorry she'd protected, if only for a moment longer. She smiled. "I promise."

She knew it was a vow she would always strive to keep.

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End file.
